The Fading Psyche
by Arteme
Summary: [one-shot] Himura Kenshin has killed his first man. Now he has two choices standing before him. Will he run away from the brutal horror of the life of a hitokiri or will he throw away his humanity and become a murderer?


**Forward**  
  
This is a one-shot I decided to write. All of us Rurouni Kenshin fans know that the day Tomoe died was the day that Kenshin lost his will to fight and that he became a man of two souls, that of a pacifist and that of a murderer. We also know that at the "end" of the Meiji Revolution, or at least the turning point where the Ishin Shishi held the advantage (c. January 30, 1868, battle of Tobu Fushimi, I believe) is when Hitokiri Battousai decided to become a Rurouni and wander the land, trying to save the lives he desperately wished to without shedding blood. We know all of this, however, Kenshin was an innocent young boy when her first killed, naïve to the ways of the world. What happens when Kenshin kills his first man, and what does he feel. In Samurai X: Trust, he says he feels nothing, but is that the truth?

* * *

**The Fading Psyche**  
  
If I closed my eyes right now, what would happen?  
  
Blood still stains my hands, slick and warm. It makes the hilt of my katana slippery and difficult to grip. The blood is ubiquitous. My world is painted crimson. My world smells of blood. It is everywhere. How was I supposed to know that this man would bleed this much?  
  
Questions roll through my head, frantic and turbulent, so unlike the steady crash of thunder that grows nearer and nearer in the distance. Is this what it's like to kill a man? I ask myself. A man who has people who love him. A man who has people he loves. A man who has a family. Who has hopes, fears and dreams. A man who lived and believed in what he was fighting for. Is this what it means to kill a man? I cannot seem to make myself feel anything, there is only this void, full of nothing.  
  
When Katsura-san asked me to kill of him I agreed. I told him that I was willing to do it. I was. I did not hesitate. I did not wonder. I merely told him that I was willing to kill for him, and he did not question my decision. He merely nodded his acceptance and told me what he wanted done, and I did not question what he wanted done, I merely killed the man.  
  
It was disgustingly easy. It was disgusting in its simplicity. The deed was done without hindrance or remorse. Even now, as I stand here before his bleeding corpse, I cannot find it in myself to care. The man is dead, I understand the truth of what I have done. I don't care.  
  
I was told that I would feel sick, that I would regret it, that it would pain my consciousness, and that I would burn in Hell for this deed. I was told all of this, yet I feel none of it. All I know is that my hands are bloody, and I find that annoying. Blood, after all, is easily washed away, if only so I might bloody my hands at a later date.  
  
I was asked if I wanted to do this. I was asked if I could.  
  
Something inside me then told me then that I could do it when he asked. hitokiri. I could descend into madness and sacrifice my humanity in order to bring about justice. It seemed to simple at the time, and now as I stand here I find that my opinion has not changed. Even though I know that I will be hated and reviled for the choice that I make, I am willing to make it, for the sake of those who are oppressed.  
  
However...  
  
...The rain begins to fall down onto me, making the blood flow even more, a pale crimson river of sin. My resolution falters, and I want to run away. It occurs to me, at this moment, as thunder and lightening clash around me, that I could turn back. It occurs to me that I do not have to do this. I do not have to make this sacrifice that will haunt the rest of my life. I can run away and forget. I can live in peace and be content...  
  
... If I closed my eyes right now maybe it would all go away. If I closed my eyes right at this moment there would no longer a dead body in front of me. If I closed my eyes right now that pale river of crimson sin would be gone. If I closed my eyes right now I could alter my reality into something else better than this, I know that...  
  
...And I can't really say that I want to...  
  
...Because...  
  
...If I closed my eyes right now the dead man would still be there, with his lifeless eyes staring at me in condemnation. If I closed my eyes right now there would still be blood, rust-colored and dried, on my hands. If I closed my eyes right now, I would still be a sinner. Even if I closed my eyes right now and altered my reality by telling myself tales of innocence, beauty and peace, people would still be dying.  
  
Every day people would be bleeding and dying in the streets of Kyoto. Families will still be torn apart. Love will still end. Even if I lie to myself there will still be sorrow. With this kind soul of mine, I can't let that happen.  
  
It had been simple really. I remember thinking this before, how easy it had been. He could not even begin to compete with my Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu that my shisho had taught me. He couldn't even grasp that I had killed him. All that he could do was stare at me, until he no longer could draw breath, and even now, in death, he still stares.  
  
I want to walk away from this corpse, but I can't. I know he's dead, his blood is on my hands, no longer as warm but just as slick. I want to sheathe my katana, but I can't, I hold on to it, as if it is my last lifeline to sanity. I want to get out of the rain but I let it pour, until I realize that there are tears in my eyes as well as tears from the sky.  
  
Why am I crying? Why do I feel as if a part of my soul is slowly fading away into nothingness...why am I thinking this hard anyway?  
  
I know that in this world killing is necessary. You must kill if you wish to survive. I was taught this very well at a young age, and it is a lesson that I will never forget. I can't allow myself to show weakness like crying. I can't have a weakness at all. I just had weak thoughts. I know that they were weak, and now they are gone, and replaced with nothing but my belief. My belief that I can do this, but a part of me says no.  
  
No.  
  
With this kind soul of mine, I can't kill time after time. I can't become a murderer, not with this kind soul of mine...because this kind soul of mine believes that killing is wrong.  
  
What do I do now?  
  
I don't know  
  
Why do I have such a dilemma?  
  
Because of my soul  
  
I want to help...but to help I must throw away all that I believe in.  
  
What can I do?  
  
You can only kill. Damn yourself to Hell and kill. Power is the only thing recognized in this world.  
  
I said it before I suppose...  
  
...Kill...  
  
Before I thought that I could do it. I could kill. I faltered, because now I realize that I was never really that sure about it anyway. Too kind. I thought I could do it, I even convinced myself I could do it. It didn't bother me until this rain came, falling...  
  
Falling...  
  
Falling...  
  
Damn the falling rain that tries to drown me in insecurities. Damn the smothering rain that reminds me of innocence and humanity. Damn the rain that falls, making that pale crimson river of sin. Damn the rain.  
  
I want to scream as I find myself at odds with myself. I can't kill, my soul won't let me. My soul wants to help, but to help I must kill.  
  
I have no options left, do I?  
  
Or do I?  
  
I dry my tears as the sky dries itself. The man's blood dries on my hands just as my soul dries out and becomes barren. I shove all of my insecurities into the back of my mind. I make my decision.  
  
I can throw away my life with ease. I have always been willing to die.  
  
I can kill men without a qualm. I just proved this to myself.  
  
I can lose myself in insanity and bloody my hands. I recently decided to do this.  
  
I won't question, I won't think, I won't feel. All that I need to do now on is kill, kill, and the part of my soul that has faded away can hope, in the darkest recesses of my mind, of a better world where killing is not necessary. Until then, I'll do it.  
  
I told myself that my soul won't let me kill.  
  
A hitokiri does not need a soul.  
  
I told myself that it was wrong.  
  
I do not need to think.  
  
It's like slaying a part of myself. It's like letting a part of me die, because, I am in fact letting a part of myself die. I shatter my soul, and let it fade into oblivion. I only need to kill, I don't need a soul, I don't need to think. I need only to kill  
  
Only kill...  
  
By the time the man arrives to inspect the job that I have done the sky is clear, the ground is dry, and my heart is barren.  
  
I feel nothing, I have no more tears to shed for anyone. I cut soul of my being and threw it away.  
  
I find that I do not regret what I have done to myself, I find that the thought of sin does not disturb me. I find that I can not cry. I find that I no longer want to run away and hide. I don't want to close my eyes to this brutal reality.  
  
Innocence is lost.  
  
Sanity is lost.  
  
I descend into the writhing turmoil of insanity.  
  
On this day a hitokiri is born.

* * *

**Note**

To those of you who may have read this fic prior to the changes made you may have noticed that the title as changed. I was informed by someone in a review by the name of **misaoshiru **that it sounded as if I had taken the title from someone else. I was not aware of a fic that had a similar title. This was in no way my intention, so therefore I have decided to change the title and thank **misaoshiru **for the notice.


End file.
